


Times are Changing

by awakeanddreaming



Series: Moments [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2004, 2005, 2006, F/M, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-23 08:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14931164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awakeanddreaming/pseuds/awakeanddreaming
Summary: He was suddenly aware of her body. As if he were feeling her, touching her, for the first time. There was something different about her sitting curled into his lap here, at his parents’ house, that was so much more than when they touched on the ice or any other time before. There was something about having her here, in the house he mostly grew up in, that was so normal. So teenage. He was just a seventeen-year-old boy and she was just a fifteen-year-old girl. Here he could like her as something more than a skating partner. He could feel heat radiating off her, and something electric moved through him. He wasn’t sure he liked it—because she was Tess and he was Scott. But he also wanted to feel more of it, whatever this was.**2004/2005 a few months after moving to Michigan to train Tessa stays at Scott's house in Ilderton and after a seemingly innocuous moment he realizes nothing about their relationship will ever be the same.





	1. The time everything changed

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I am doing with my life, but here is another young VM moment. 
> 
> This is taken and edited and changed slightly from a longer work and given completely different direction. This series was all meant to be one offs but this part might have one or two more short chapters because the moments all mesh together. 
> 
> Enjoy some confusing teenage emotions.
> 
>  
> 
> **I have changed the title of the piece and given the original title to the first chapter.

The flirting had started out cute and innocent—innocently enough that Scott was able to convince himself that it was all just part of being close friends. Just an extension of being skating partners, growing up so closely. Being teenagers, they were just having fun and toying with boundaries.

It started around six months after they’d moved to Canton to train at Arctic Edge. They were anticipating a weekend practice so weren’t expected home to visit. There was a lift they were struggling to get to perfection. But by Wednesday had a break though and they nailed it. By Thursday they couldn’t get it wrong and there were other teams that could use the extra coaching time on the weekend. They got a pass to have some time off—a very rare gift so they jumped at the chance. Together they decided to make the three-hour drive home and surprise their parents. They thought it would be fun to show up unexpectedly and see the look on their families faces.

Unfortunately, Tessa’s parents were more than surprised. They weren’t home and wouldn’t be until Sunday, and Tessa’s siblings were all away at school and living their lives.

While Tessa sulked on the front porch of her house, kicking at loose stones with the warn toe of her converse not sure where to go next, Scott called his mom from the car.

Scott was taking her home with him for the weekend. But on the drive from London to Ilderton she was still pouting. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her and her ridiculous classic Tessa pout. He did allow himself a head shake, because of fucking course with all the ways she could show her displeasure she had to pout like a five-year-old, while studiously texting—probably her sister. Tessa was the worst texter. She refused to let him activate t9 on her new Nokia phone—one that had customizable back plates and she had used the stencil to cut out an old photo of them skating to use—so it took her forever to complete a text. It was painful to watch her thumb each button two or three times to get the letter she was looking for. And she hit each key with such force and determination, it was both cute and annoying as hell.

“Am I going to have to listen to that clicking the whole drive? Seriously, you text like my mom.”

“Alma texts?” Finally, she cracks a smile.

“No, but you know what I mean. You’re the worst texter.”

“Says the guy who hates texting.”

“Hate it, sure. But it doesn’t take me ten minutes to send a goddamn message.”

She sighed, playfully exasperated, “That’s because all you text is ‘k’ and you use the letter ‘u’ instead of the word.”

This time rolled his eyes. “That’s how you text, T. It’s not an essay contest.”

Despite the inordinate amount of time they already spent together he found he was looking forward to having her around for the weekend. Hanging out at his house. Having time with her away from skating and Michigan felt different but also felt right. He squeezed her hand across the center console, a gesture that said not to worry, she’d still have a good weekend. He could feel her untense and knew, without looking that she was smiling. He loved how they could speak without words. A skill they would only get better at, messages shared through nothing more than a shift in a handhold.

“Why don’t we watch a movie when we get in, relax for a bit before my mom is all over us?”

If Tess was still upset she hid it well, she looked over at him as they pulled into the long driveway and smiled brightly and maybe a little mischievously, “Only if I get the chair.”

“You can have it, if you beat me to it!” He laughed.

Tess had been around the Moir house enough over the years to be well versed in the special qualities of “The Chair”. It was the best seat in the house. The old oversized recliner, that had somehow survived three boys all the way through to teenage years, had to be the most comfortable chair you’d ever sit in.  It had also been placed in the perfect viewing position for the TV. There was always a fight over who would get the right to the prestigious spot. It made his heart jump that Tess not only remembered but decided to play along. Like she belonged, in some way, at his house.

She smiled coyly, as if that was the answer she wanted all along. “Alright Moir, it’s on. Let’s race.”  

She had the advantage, as soon as he turned off the engine she bolted from the car, leaving her luggage in the back for later. He quickly followed her, not even bothering to lock the doors.  Breathless and giggling they both reached the front door at the same time, their hands brushing as they simultaneously reached for the handle.

Scott got through the door first, but Tessa was sneaky and as they got to the living room she ducked around him and vaulted over the couch diving for the chair. Getting herself there just moments before him.

“I win,” She smiled triumphantly. Breathlessly.

He gave her a bemused smile, “You haven’t won yet.”

But he turned away from her and walked over to the TV set. A DVD copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark sat on top of the player.

“How about Raiders?” He held it up to her.

“Raiders?”

“Of the lost Ark, you know Indiana Jones.”

“Oh, isn’t that old?”

He put it in anyways. “It’s Harrison Ford, you’ll like it.”

Once the previews started he turned back to her, cozily occupying the chair.

“I think you’re in my spot.”

“I won, fair and square.” She folded her arms across her chest.

He smiled at her again as he crossed the distance between them reaching his arms out and grabbing her waist, tickling her. He ran his fingers over her middle until she was gasping for air, laughing so hard she was crying and playfully swatting him away. When she arched her back at his touch he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her and with practiced arms lifted her out of the chair. He spun her around so that he was the one in The Chair, and she was standing in front of him.

“I think you will find, TuTu, that I have in fact won.”

But she wasn’t giving up. He had known—at least hoped—that she wouldn’t.

She tried pushing him out, putting the entire weight of her body into his arm. She was stronger than he expected, and he had to push back just a bit. He knew she couldn’t actually move him. He gave her the small satisfaction of sliding him over a few inches toward the arm of the chair and that was all she needed. As if it was her plan all along, she stopped pushing and planted herself in the small space she created. Half on his lap, half on the chair.

“We can share,” she said, triumphant as if she’d won. She had.

After briefly composing herself, she settled into him, tucking her legs underneath her and leaning into his shoulder. And he was suddenly aware of her body, like he was feeling her touch for the first time. There was something different about her sitting curled into his lap here, at his parents’ house, that was so much different than when they touched on the ice or any other time before. There was something about having her here, in the house he mostly grew up in, that was so normal. So teenage. He was just a seventeen-year-old boy and she was just a fifteen-year-old girl. Here things felt different. He could feel heat radiating off her, and something electric moved through him. He wasn’t sure he liked it—because she was Tess and he was Scott. But he also wanted to feel more of it, whatever this was.

 He tried to focus on the movie, he honestly did. And it was going okay until she shifted so that just a little bit more of her was on his lap. Then unzipping her sweater she tried to shrug out of it, but the position she was sitting in made it tricky without elbowing him in the head.

“I’m getting warm,” she held her arm out to him, “help me out of this?”

He grabbed the arm of her sweater and carefully pulled it off. As he tugged the sleeve exposing more and more of her he tried not to focus on the fact that all she had underneath was a tight-fitting tank top, the strap of her hot pink bra exposed.

“Thanks,” she grinned, wriggling her other arm free of the second sleeve.

And that was it for the movie for him. His eyes couldn’t move from her bare shoulders, examining the patterns of the freckles there, like little constellations leading to and then disappearing under the seam of her tank top. It would be so easy, he thought, to just lean forward and trail kisses along the line of those freckles. And when she turned slightly, and he caught sight of the similar freckle patterns on her chest, disappearing down the front of her top. Immediately, he found himself wondering, imagining, how far they extended. And he could swear she sensed him looking and leaned forward ever so slightly to give him just a glimpse of where they might lead. That was the end for him, the moment he would never see her the same way again.

For the first while the flirting stayed strictly that. And it also never travelled with them to Canton. They had an unspoken rule—this was just for the weekends and couldn’t interfere with their skating. They still hung out and joked, they enjoyed their time on the ice. But they built up imaginary walls in Canton, they left it all on the ice, they were Tessa and Scott skating partners. But as soon as Friday came around and Tess got in Scotts car to make the three-hour drive home for the weekend the boundaries were broken. They could be normal teenagers. They could be Tessa and Scott friends, who maybe liked each other.

Tess would wear her shortest spandex shorts on their drives, claiming Scotts car was always too hot, even though he knew full well she was always cold. He would casually rest a hand on her bare thigh, occasionally stroking gentle circles on her skin, noticing how goosebumps formed under his touch. She would playfully swat his arm when he made bad jokes, her hand lingering a little longer than necessary.

It wasn’t a rare occurrence that when her parents would work late Friday nights she would come over for dinner. And every single time it was the same thing, the race for the chair, the play wrestling and her ultimately on his lap while they cuddled in to watch a movie. They knew the game so well that eventually, she stopped trying to push him over, and he would gently grab her hips and pull her down onto him, positioning her on his lap.

He caved first and kissed her. It was in his car in her driveway—cupping her face in one hand while the other rested on her thigh maybe a little higher than it should be. She was taking longer than normal to get out of the car, lingering, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. She licked her lips and he couldn’t stop staring at them—they looked so inviting. So he said fuck it, and gave in to desire. He imagined that if this had been a date and he were dropping her off he’d want to give her a kiss goodnight. They had just spent three hours together talking about anything and everything and laughing until it hurt. If that were a date, he reasoned, it would have been a damn good one.

 She didn’t pull away, but he saw how her eyes widened in surprise. Her lips parted, willing, but unsure how to react. _Oh shit,_ was her first real kiss? It was. He was kind of surprised, yet not surprised at all. He nearly felt bad—in her driveway with her skating partner was probably not her ideal first kiss. But he also found some strange satisfaction knowing that he had this part of her. He would forever be her first real kiss. He smiled a little against her mouth.

She smiled back. He parted her lips more, with his tongue. He put his hand gently on the back of her head and tilted it back slightly, allowing him to dip his tongue into her mouth. He took it slowly and she willingly followed his lead. That night he taught her how to kiss.

He kissed her again the next week and the next and the one after that. Sometimes he would park a block away from her house and then a half hour later, both red faced and breathless—her hair a mess—he’d start the car again and pull up into her driveway.

But just like the flirting they managed to compartmentalize. They never talked about the kissing and it fell under the unspoken rule and never travelled with them to Michigan. He maybe had a girlfriend in Canton—he probably shouldn’t have kept that going—because he needed a distraction from Tess when they were off the ice. That was really a terrible idea.

This game, whatever it was they were doing, had changed everything. Even if they pretended it didn’t. It was something bigger than either of them understood at the time.


	2. A time for everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she wakes up with a pounding headache, a burning in her stomach, and his last words permanently etched into her brain, she knows what she must do. She has to show him they can be more. She is bound and determined to be his. She never wants anyone else’s lips on hers again. He is the only one. She wants to give him all of her. Everything.
> 
> ***2005 after a drink too many at a party Tessa realizes she only wants Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, but goes hand in hand with the previous. Honestly it is kind of my favourite though. 
> 
> **a little warning there are some questions regarding consent here.

Tessa hated parties. Especially parties in Canton. A drunken orgy of teenagers, all wound too tightly during the week taking Friday night to let, a bit too, loose.

She had had one and a half berry flavoured coolers—Vexx she thinks it was called—and a swig of Malibu that Meryl made her try. It was disgusting. It tasted like what she imagined coconut scented sunscreen would taste like and burned her throat on the way down. She hadn’t drunk much, by regular standards, but at sixteen and sub 100lbs and on severe calorie restriction it didn’t take much to edge from happy tipsy to semi blackout drunk.

 The edges of the night were already becoming fuzzy with one moment blurring into the next and she’d only been there an hour, maybe two. Waking up the next day the whole night would feel like a dream where she was floating through small moments not knowing any of the in-betweens. Large chunks of the night were blank. Shrouded in blackness. At sixteen this would be her first experience being really honest to goodness drunk. God, she hated parties.

What she does remember is leaving Meryl after the sip of Malibu wanting to vomit. Stumbling into the living room only to spot Scott in a corner kissing some girl who is neither her, nor his maybe girlfriend. If they had just driven home instead of coming to this stupid party it would have been her lips on his, parked in his car a block from her house. Like a dirty little secret. But a secret between the two of them all the same.

Bile and alcohol rose in her throat—there wasn’t any food in there to come back up. Her chest felt like it was being constricted, there was something out of sync with her breathing and her heartbeat. Like one was too fast for the other, but she wasn’t sure which. A dull ache settled over her heart, spreading out across her ribs and sternum. She wasn’t unfamiliar with anxiety attacks. This wasn’t her first one, but this was the first while drunk. That made it so much worse. Made it feel like dying.

She remembers hands creeping around her waist. Warm, sweaty, unfamiliar and wanting. Lips on her neck, her cheek, her mouth. She tried to pull away, but whoever had her in their grip pulled her in tighter. She swallowed hard, willing for an escape. The hands gripped tighter, pulling her back against whoever’s body they belonged to. She tried to pull away again but then she pictured Scott and the unknown girl with their tangle of limbs like a spider in the corner and she relented to the kiss.

She didn’t really kiss back, more just allowed it to happen while letting her mind travel somewhere else. It was easier that way, to pretend it wasn’t happening. If she allowed her mind to slipped back, however briefly, to reality she wanted to cry.

She wasn’t exactly new to kissing, but she’d only ever kissed Scott. Almost every Friday in his car on the way home from Canton for the past several months. This was nothing like kissing Scott. Scott was gentle, always setting a pace she was comfortable with, hands never straying where she didn’t want them to go. Kissing Scott was always a give and take, always perfectly balanced. This was nothing like that, it was all take. He didn’t even seem to care that she wasn’t doing anything. Didn’t notice—or didn’t care—that tears were rolling down her cheeks. Anytime she tried to break way the grip would tighten, pressing her back more firmly against his front.

  She doesn’t exactly remember who it was. She thinks it was Fedor—that would make sense and it would explain the later rumors—but that thought disturbs her a little because not only was he her coach’s son but he was an adult and she was barely sixteen. This thought haunts her well into adulthood. It is gross and slobbery and drunk and only barely consensual. Or maybe not consensual at all—the lines are all pretty blurred.

She remembers a hand sliding up her shirt and one trying to push its way into the top of her jean shorts. She remembers running, he didn’t chase after her—thank god. She remembers falling, skinning her knees. She remembers a firm, familiar, steadying grip around her waist.

“I’m sorry, T. This is my fault.” He mumbles out too quietly, maybe just too himself, as he picks her up. “Let’s get you home.” A bit louder.

She doesn’t remember him getting her home. Just being there. Laying in her bed, his sure hands caressing her hair, willing her to fall asleep and wake up in the morning having forgotten the night. Telling her how sorry he is. Asking over and over if she is alright. Wiping tears from her eyes.

Right before succumbing to sleep she swears he says, “I’m so sorry kiddo, this is all my fault. I wish we could be more than this.” Followed by a pause and almost inaudibly, “I want you, so much.”

When she wakes up with a pounding headache, a burning in her stomach, and his last words permanently etched into her brain, she knows what she must do. She has to show him they can be more. She is bound and determined to be his. She never wants anyone else’s lips on hers again. He is the only one. She wants to give him all of her. Everything.


	3. almost all the way this time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa had lied. To her mom. She lied to her mom to spend two days with him.  
> Tessa Virtue knew exactly what she wanted. And she got it.   
> This was the end of their unspoken rule. The moment all the lines started to blur, the moment he knew he had to have her. She was all he wanted. Only her. All of her. He was screwed.
> 
> **2005, almost the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be the last chapter in the particular part of the series involving teenage VM. 
> 
> **warning there is mildly mature content at the end. Nothing overly graphic, but still sexual content.

Tess liked to do ballet while she cooked, or more accurately waited for the timer on the microwave to count down until food was ready. He watched her as she pirouetted in the centre of his small kitchen, eyes trained, spotting the clock on the microwave as it prattled off the last 20 seconds. Wearing one sock, rolled down so that it only covered her toes and the ball of her foot, so her bare foot would not stick to the floor and she could spin unimpeded. She looked ridiculous, and beautiful. Ridiculously beautiful he thought as he watched her twirl, pigtails braids spinning out around her. He always admired her grace and loved to watch her dance. Which was lucky for him because she loved to dance. And it was just a Tessa thing, to practice pirouettes or jettes, sometimes even choreographing little sequences anytime she was in the kitchen. Something they would find themselves doing together, years later, in a different kitchen, though still his. Bodies pushed up flush against one another, counting out bars and improvising movements.

The microwave chimed and she immediately stopped mid-spin to remove the contents. Leaning over slowly, surely, and just enough so that Scott could see the glint of silver, a little heart with a clear stone, in her naval. She plopped the plate of bagel bites between them. A treat she had made him promise not to tell Marina about.

She smiled, popping one of the mini pizza bagels into her mouth. Something she had found in the recesses of Scott’s freezer. Bought on a whim at some point and long forgotten. They were still good.

After popping a second in her mouth and licking her fingers, still leaning over the counter—looking directly at him—she said, “So about this weekend…” trailing her words, leaving the thought hanging.

They actually had a whole week of holiday and he knew her mom was planning a family vacation at their lake cottage. He assumed she was about to tell him her mom would be taking her home early to get a jump start on their vacation. He sighed, to let her know he’d miss their few carefree hours together.

She shook her head, “Everyone is already at the cottage. There is some kind of event up there this weekend, so my mom can’t get me from London until Sunday.”

She leaves this hanging in the air and he isn’t sure what to make of it, so he just hums and nods.

She smiled, raised her eyebrows slightly, leaning so far over the counter towards him that her feet were no longer touching the floor, and pressed a hard and fast kiss to his lips. She pulled back quickly, flushing. They’d never kissed outside of his car. Trying hard to steady her voice she shrugged, “Can I stay with you for the weekend? I hate to be at my house alone.”

_Fuck._ He knew he was done for.  

They didn’t do it that weekend but got damn close. The first night she abandoned the bed his mom had made up for her on the pullout couch. As soon as she was sure that his parents were asleep she snuck into his room where he had been waiting—hopeful.

She allowed him to explore her body, and he tenderly touched—kissed—every piece of flesh he could find. She was laid out in his bed in his t-shirt and her underwear—she wasn’t ready for him to take those off, which was okay—and it was perfect. He slid his hand over her stomach, stopping briefly to play with the cool metal piercing, before stopping at the elastic of her underwear. He knew to ask before he moved further. To ask if he could slip his hand inside, under the tight elastic and feel her. She nodded tentatively, swallowing with nervous anticipation.

She tensed at the first touch, but relaxed as he kissed her and rubbed gentle circles until her legs were quivering. He teased her opening with a single finger, looking at her she nodded in consent as he slowly slipped in inside her. After, laying on top of her with nothing but the thin fabric of her underwear and his boxers separating them, she reached down between them with forced confidence grabbing him over his boxers.

“Can…can I…I…uh…touch you? Canyouteachme?” It all tumbled out together, and she blushed underneath him.  

He smiled at her, and without a word rolled over onto his back. Taking her hand and sliding it under the waist band of his boxers he guided her through the motions, until she moved swiftly and confidently on her own.

Saturday night followed a similar trajectory, but on the pullout couch. There they had been watching a movie when his parents went off to bed, his dad giving him a look of warning as they went. When she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, he turned the volume of the TV up ever so slightly hoping to cover any sounds they might make.   

Kate came to pick her up Sunday morning to take her to their cottage for the rest of the week. His parents were out at church.

As Tessa put her bags in the trunk Kate gave Scott a hug. “Thank your parents for letting her stay the night. It is too bad you two had to practice. I told Tessa I could have brought her up Thursday night with me, but she was adamant you needed the extra ice time.”

Tessa had lied. To her mom. She lied to her mom to spend two days with him.

_Tessa Virtue knew exactly what she wanted. And she got it._

This was the end of their unspoken rule. The moment all the lines started to blur, the moment he knew he had to have her. She was all he wanted. Only her. All of her. He was screwed.


	4. the fist time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, of fricken course Tessa had tried to plan losing her virginity. The idea was kind of laughable, looking back. Scott thought she was being ridiculous, mumbled something about finding the right moment, and spontaneity. But she insisted she would be more comfortable if she knew it was coming. That was stupid. He went along anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this feels so weird and wrong. Though not enough to stop...
> 
> I have no idea why I wrote this chapter. Maybe just to close off this segment of the series, but here it is anyways.

 

The first time wasn’t perfect, but it was perfectly them. It was awkward and giggly and despite having everything planned out, full of nerves. But in the end it was still everything she could have hoped for. She gave all of herself to the boy who took her hand when she was seven years old and never let go. It was everything she’d planned for, yet some how nothing like she had imagined.

Of course, of fricken course Tessa had tried to plan losing her virginity. The idea was kind of laughable, looking back. Scott thought she was being ridiculous, mumbled something about finding the right moment, and spontaneity. But she insisted she would be more comfortable if she knew it was coming. That was stupid. He went along anyways.

So, on a non-significant Friday evening in the early summer of 2006 he took her mini putting and then out for dinner at Boston Pizza in London. Her parents were out for the evening, so they would go back to her house after. It was her first real, honest to goodness first date. At least if she didn’t count the time she went to the movies with a boy named Eric back in Kitchener, where her mom had driven them to the theatre—hung around at the adjoining mall for two hours—and drove them back home after. They had barely even spoken, and his hand was clammy and too small when he held hers. She didn’t go on another date with him or anyone else after. She always claimed it was because she was too busy with skating, but really it was always because she had been waiting for a certain boy to finally see her as something more.

 When they pulled up to the terribly outdated mini putt course Scott kissed her in the car, their lips only meeting briefly—he was waiting for later—but he lingered over her mouth breathing her in. Then he rushed around the car to open her door for her. It was a sweet gesture and so Scott. She beamed up at him suppressing a laugh, taking in the sly grin on his boyish face, as he bowed down and said “M’lady” gesturing for her to take his arm.

He didn’t let her win at mini putt, and she was glad. They always loved to challenge themselves and each other. Though he did work hard to distract her, and she claimed his win was not fair. He probably still would have won, but she knew her score could have been much better.

“You’re cheating.” She giggled, as he wrapped his arms around her, placing his hands over hers on the shaft of the putter.

“I’m helping.” He hummed into her ear.

Her breath caught in her chest, feeling his body pressed flush against her back, she shivered against his breath so close against her skin. She pressed into him, as if it were possible to be any closer, and let him swing her arms along with the club. She didn’t even care that the pink ball she had chosen veered well to the left of the hole landing next to a rock that would end up being really difficult to shoot around.

At dinner he talked her out of ordering just a strawberry and spinach salad, always concerned that she was not eating enough. So, she ended up getting the quesadilla, but with a side salad instead of the fries she really wanted. He got the Boston Brute and fries—letting her steal some from his plate without comment. 

“Do you think I could get away with ordering a beer?” He asked with feigned seriousness.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Not a chance Moir.”

“Come on, I’ll be nineteen in less than three months. I should try. You know to practice. ”

She shook her head. “No way, baby face. You’re gonna be IDed until you’re thirty. Don’t get us kicked out.”

 “Will not. Twenty-five, tops. By thirty I will be able to grow a beard, just you wait...no one will question me.”  He huffed, and it reminded her of a toddler, hands on hips saying _no, I’m big._ But then started laughing uproariously at his own self-deprecating joke.

They both laughed. She loved how he could always make her laugh.

She would always remember that night as the best first date she ever had. Actually, one of the best dates ever. It was nothing extravagant, or really all that special, but it was everything she wanted.

Later that night in her darkened house, in her childhood bedroom, her nerves began to pick up. They were standing in front of her bed, kissing. Her hands around his neck, one of his tangled in her hair the other roaming her body.  

The heat of anxiety spread through her. They had done everything else--most recently a few days ago--so she didn’t understand why she was so nervous. This was the obvious next step. Why was her heart beating frantically in her chest? This was exactly what she wanted. With him. Only him. But somehow this would mean so much more than everything they’d done before and she knew it. After this nothing would be the same. They could never go back from here. They had never talked about what this would mean. And they really never would.

He sensed her nervousness immediately, stopping and taking her in an embrace. Grounding each other, breathing together until she found her center again. First to sync was their breathing--like their ribs had fused, connected by some invisible thread--her chest matched the rise and fall of his. Then their hearts, beating in sync to the slow steady rhythm of a dance they didn't fully understand, yet. She didn’t know yet that this hug would become an integral part of their lives—crucial to competition and everything else. Their hug—the syncing of their souls.

“T, we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” He whispered softly against her skin. He was always gentle with her, almost always had been. But the nervousness and the hesitations in his voice were uncharacteristic. He felt the weight of this too. She felt a shudder travel down her spine.

“I am ready for anything. As long as I’m with you.” The words poured out of her but didn’t feel like her own. Like she was seeing and hearing herself from afar. She sounded so sure, despite her fears of mere moments ago.

She had lost herself to his touch. To his deepening kisses that travelled the length of her neck, down her shoulder. She wanted to be with him, completely. More than anything else. Ever.

Her nerves still bubbled back up when he took off her shirt, and then her bra—her pants already discarded on the floor—and she was almost completely bare before him. She felt her entire body blush when he asked if he could take off her underwear—he always asked, every step of the way. She nodded her consent, but she couldn’t help the nervous laugh that spilled out. Soon the laugh took over her entire being, she had no idea where it had come from and she couldn’t stop it. He was left looking at her confused. And then he got it. Understood her. Knew exactly what she needed.

“You know in this light you look about as white as the sheets. Are you a ghost? Tess, is that really you? Is this real? This can’t be real. You must be a ghost.” He joked.

And just like that she relaxed, her laugh turned from nervous and uncontrollable to genuine, ending in a shy smile. This was Scott. With his bad jokes that still always made her laugh. Everything was okay.

Once he had her completely bare in front of him he stopped. There was no more joking. He was just taking in how her body looked in the final light of dusk creeping in through her bedroom window. She would have been embarrassed all over again if she hadn’t noticed the look of complete reverence, well beyond an eighteen-year-old, as he looked at her.

“Tess, you’re so beautiful. You know that right?”

He kissed up and down her body, showing his appreciation to every inch of pale flesh. She giggled as he reached her stomach, his breath tickling a particularly sensitive spot next to her belly button ring.

He stopped, “Is this still okay? Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head emphatically, “No, please don’t stop. It just tickled.”

He moved up in the bed resting over top of her, propped up on his elbows. He kissed both cheeks, the corner of her mouth and her nose. She reached down between them, struggling with the buckle on his belt—his shirt already cast aside somewhere along with her clothes. He stopped her trembling hands, pulling them off his belt with one of his own, still using the other arm to hold himself over her.

“I want you. I want this, so bad. Like so much. You have no idea. But only if you’re okay. Only if you’re ready.” He paused, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. “I…I…I don’t want to hurt you, T.”

She could feel her breath catching in her chest, “You won’t.”

“Not on purpose…but…um…yeah…you know…I’ve heard it can…that it can…it might…hurt…and…” He somehow stumbled out, words barely coming out coherently. And even though he was propped up inches above her, she could have sworn she felt his heart rate quicken, his breath caught up in his throat.

“Have…have you ever…you know…been with someone who…umm…” She wasn’t exactly sure what she was asking, or why. How do you ask if the guy you’re about to have sex with for the first time had ever taken anyone else’s virginity? Or why it would matter. God, she was great at making things even more awkward.

But he knew where she was leading and shook his head. _No._

“So, this will be like a first at something for both of us.” Why did she say that?

“Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

And then she kissed him, before she could say anything else stupid.

It didn’t exactly hurt. It just wasn't very comfortable, at first. Very uncomfortable, actually. It took a few moments just lying there in stillness together to get used to the feeling. But he was slow and gentle until it stopped being uncomfortable and started feeling good. Though the second time, a few hours later, would feel much better right from the start.

Somehow, despite its lack of perfection she had never felt so complete, from that moment she understood being entirely one with someone else. She knew that it was love—or would grow into it.  Nothing would ever be the same. They could never go back, things would get messy and complicated, but she would never stop loving the boy who took her hand at seven and never gave it back. He'd have her heart, until the end of time.


End file.
